77 Sunset Strip

You have to be as old as I was this past Thursday to remember the 1950s TV series "77 Sunset Strip," a popular P.I.-themed show where the cars were fast, the hair was groomed, and the women with champagne, blonde color hair sitting at the bar were gorgeous, especially when they  carelessly crossed their legs and had a cigarette lit for them. (You could smoke indoors then, and believe me, everyone smoked.)  I love to look back at what things looked like then, and I'll tell you, a women who was good looking then, would be good looking now. Only the hairstyle would be different.

My father, born in 1915, and so longer with us for quite a while now, would, if he watched TV, call them dames, or dolls. It would not be pejorative. It would be endearing. The only TV I ever saw him watch was Lawrence Welk or The Honeymooners, and later Jackie Gleason's show. Well, maybe Ed Sullivan's show as well. I do remember some post-Elvis appearance comments by the adults that were not favorable. Also, when th Beatles first appeared. We were headed for the toilet.

77 Sunset strip starred Efrem Zimbalist Jr., son of a classical musician, and Roger Smith as partners in a detective agency. Then, as now, detective show were popular.

The vibe, or coolness of the '50s was enhanced by the car jockey Kookie, played by Edward Brynes. Kookie wore the same type of cloth jacket, the James Dean look, Fonzie wore on Happy Days before they figured out that he would look better in leather. 

But no leather look for parking expensive cars. The owners expected them back. Kookie always has a comb ready to sweep back his 1950s locks and secure the '50s male look. "Kookie, Kookie, lend me your comb," became a song.

77. My long-tine dentist, who has now passed away, had his office in the Empire State building on the 77th floor, with a window by the chair facing south; a magnificent view of Manhattan traded for the joy of some dental work.

My daughter Susan, who was a Dr. B. patient, one day was in the city with her friend Donna and decided to do some sightseeing. Without an appointment, Susan and Donna showed up at his door to take in the view. If there was someone in the chair they waited. Dr. B. got the biggest kick out of that. He is missed.

Dr. B., being even older than myself would, answer the door, and nearly break into the song about Kookie and his hair. Dr. B. of course remembered the show.

When 911 hit and Dr. B. saw the Twin Towers engulfed in flames, he immediately closed the office, and headed for Penn Station for the ride home. It was early then, and the trains were still running.

Adding to the cast of characters in 77 Sunset Strip is Jacqueline Beer, the former Miss France of 1954, as Suzanne Fabray answering phones for Sunset Answering Service. No phone mail then. No texting either.

Louis Quinn plays a bookie named Roscoe, who hands out racetrack tips. He looks like the prototypical Hollywood version of what a 1950s bookie, and race track patron—a railbird—should look like. Even a still photo gives you the impression he talks fast, without or without a cigar in his mouth

Connie Steven plays Cricket, the curvy blonde who is attached to Kookie, who else? The name Cricket anticipates naming Angie Dickinson as Pepper in Police Woman. Short, saucy names.

I can't recall a single episode of 77 Sunset Strip. It hasn't ever been shown on one of those nostalgia TV channels.

The number 7 plays prominently in craps. "7 come 11, baby needs a new pair of shoes;" the hoped for coming out throw. The dreaded 7 before the point that gets in the way of your roll.

How about jet airplanes? Boeing seems to use a 7 in nearly everything it makes: 707, 727, 747, 767, 787.

Slot machines? Wouldn't three 7s across mean some winnings? And how about Cary Grant playing the gambler Joe Bascopolous (got to be a gambling Nick the Greek, right?) in the 1943 movie Mr. Lucky, who jumps in a New York City cab that has a fistful of 7s in its license place. He feels even luckier now. 

Note:

All AI search engines failed to reveal how many 7s there were in the license plate. I'll have to wait for an alert reader, or TCM to show the movie again. Cary Grant is a favorite of mine.

You'd think if is AI was so great it would go out and try and find the answer to my query. But it didn't. The answer was not in any retrievable piece of information AI used in its Large Language Model. Why didn't it queue up the movie and watch it for me and come back with the answer? Ha! Some intelligence. 

I'm thinking about all these 7s because I turned 77 on Thursday and have in longevity outlived the ages of my parents and my grandparents.

I got a new pair of glasses on Tuesday and I told Peter, my long-time optician, that I was going to be 77 on Thursday. I don't know Peter's age, but he said I look good. I told him what I always tell everyone who might make that comment: "You haven't seen the x-rays." 

Yet, since I'm alive to tell the tale, maybe I'm Mr. Lucky.

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